Pieces of Legend
by ElocinMuse
Summary: A collection of oneshots centered around the universe and timeline of my "We are Legend" fic. Not all the oneshots though have to pertain to it, if you choose. AN tells inside.
1. A Little Confession

**Author's Note: So... here marks the beginning!**

**For those of you who have not read "We are Legend," some of these little ficlets could be read without digging into the big momma fic. Some of them could even be attributed to recent spoilers, if you choose. I'll let you know ahead of time whether or not this is the case. For example, this oneshot here could be removed from the WaL universe, if you chose. **

**And since this was the most requested, lol, I figured I'd start with this one. Timeline puts it about a week or two after the epilogue. **

* * *

_.A Little Confession._

"So, Jared and I took the truck over to Max. Normally, of course, I could fix it myself, but with our schedule lately, that's a no-go. Besides…"

And he's going off again. But not about trucks or vintage restorations or things of that nature. So often lately, it's always "Jared and I." She smiles, settling into the covers and pillows, one hand propping her chin up as she watches him. Her smile doesn't reach her eyes, because she's nervous, but it brightens nevertheless at his enthusiastic retellings. "I'm glad things with your brother have improved," she encourages him quietly when he's finished.

He peers down at her as he slides under the duvet beside her, planting a kiss on her waiting lips. "Thank you."

She lingers a little longer than necessary, which is saying something, and feels a loss when he finally pulls away. She worries her bottom lip between her teeth as he situates himself in the bed for the night, fluffing the blankets and pillows. He does it now just to make her laugh, she thinks. He says he isn't a perfectionist, but she knows better.

There's a buzz, though, in her stomach. And she hasn't decided if it's a pleasant buzz or not. "Booth?" she murmurs softly, eyes downcasting to admire the patterns of the sheets. She twists a small bunch of it in her fingers.

She feels his eyes on her before he speaks, which is a small comfort. This is part of what she knows, and it's a safe zone. Despite that she's about to plummet from a great height. "Yeah, Bones?" When she doesn't reply and the seconds drag on, his lighthearted expression slowly fades into concern. Upon her continued silence and anxious expression, he shifts onto his side, watching over her attentively. "Honey, what is it? What's wrong?" His voice is so soft and so loving and troubled, she almost starts to cry.

Damn hormones.

She placates him with a tentative smile, hurrying to assure him. She hates to see him so worried. "No. No, it's nothing… bad."

That frown eases a little, but his brow remains creased at her evasiveness—which is odd coming from her. "It's something good, then?" he ventures, a little hopefully. Still too wary to form any expectations.

"I…"

Her throat clogs, and she's displeased with her lack of response. But how does one say this? Lead up to it? Is it something that's said, shown, hinted at? Something that requires evidence? She's terrible at these social cues and rituals. His brown eyes never leave her, though, and they remind her of who she is. They show her that he's never cared about her awkwardness. He's loved her all the time, quirks included. And… she's always been straightforward in the past…

"May I see your hand?" she finally requests.

His brow creases further, but his lips tip into a hesitant grin. "You've learned how to read palms?" he guesses comically, though offering her the desired contribution.

Her fingers slide over his, and he's so warm. Always so warm. It's a comfort in many ways.

When she slowly draws his hand with hers beneath the covers, he's flummoxed. His deductive reasoning speeds into overdrive, analyzing and rejecting several scenarios. But mostly, he's confused. For a fleeting moment, he thinks that he knows she'd never behave like this if it was anything sexual. She'd never been coy or so nervous in the past in that department. But then, he fears that it's just something so _out there_ as a request, and now _he's_ nervous. Amused, eagerly curious, but definitely nervous.

He can feel her pulse thudding against his hand. Good God, just how _out there_ was… she… talking…

Every hungry thought instantly flies from his mind when she at last stills his hand over her stomach. For a long time, that's how they stay.

Wheels turning madly in his head, it isn't long before he finally connects the dots like any true investigator. His lips part, jaw hanging open slightly, and her wide blue eyes drag up his face. Cataloguing every nuance, every reaction. She reads the exact moment on his expression when he feels the very slight bump beneath his hand.

"You're…" he whispers.

And she's begun to chatter like a mad woman. The Queen of Etiquette morphs seamlessly into Run-on Sentence Lady before his very eyes. "I didn't want to say pregnant, because that sounded so dire—like something severe like cancer, as though I have a disease or some such thing, which I don't—I don't have cancer. I didn't want to say _expecting_, because well, that's considerably vague. And _with child_ just seemed so archaic and I'm aware you don't really prefer it when I spout all this anthropological data, and—"

The megawatt grin that's begun to steal over his countenance immediately terminates her speeding monologue. "We're having a baby?" he surmises tentatively, awed, deliriously ecstatic.

"Well... technically _I'm_ having a baby, but…" she trails off quietly, eyes watering unwittingly. Softly, she murmurs, "I like the way you say it." All at once, she's acutely emotional. Because _they're having a baby_. She _is_ with child—with _his_ child. Together, they've created life.

Somewhere within their lovemaking, two heartbeats became One.

A tear rolls down her cheek as she observes this situation with brand new eyes. He tips his head and gently kisses it away, and she's dazed to see her favorite shade of brown filmed over with moisture. "You're happy?" she wonders with a watery expression.

He laughs, and her heart soars. "_Yes_. Yes, Bones, I'm happy." And he's kissing her again, and she suddenly can't stop smiling. "_So_ happy!" He scoots down the bed and she squeals when his lips start peppering adoring kisses all over her belly.

They're both laughing now. Eager to investigate, he gently slides the hem of her shirt up a ways, staring fixedly at her skin. She holds back another endeared laugh, but the smile stays, and she smoothes her fingers over his hair with overflowing affection.

A warm hand presses against her stomach, and his grin fades into a tiny, fascinated smile. As if discovering the universe for the first time. "There's a little me or a little Bones in there?" he wonders aloud, barely over a whisper.

Her soft laugh is husky, but resembles a giggle at his enthralled observation. "Yes," she says. Pleasantly, she slips her hand over his atop her midsection. Her head tilts in curious contemplation. "Is it terrible for me to wish it a little-you?"

His eyes meets hers, and his smile widens. "No," he assures, pressing another soft kiss over the growing evidence of their love. "Only as terrible as it is for me to hope for a little-you." He crawls back up to her then, but his hand never leaves her stomach. Always _so warm_. Another kiss from him, and she's delighted even more. Slow, caring. She feels him smiling against her lips, and ventures he feels the same on his. "And I'm right, by the way," he notifies when they finally draw apart. The grin on his face is almost smug now. A curious crease dips her brow, and he laughs. "It's a baby-Bones."

She guffaws, swatting him on the chest. "There's no possible way to know that yet!"

But he's always right.


	2. Notorious

**Author's Note: Here's another fluffy one before we delve into some angst. **

**"We are Legend" need to be read for this vignette? Eh, not really. But it does match up specific markers learned in the epilogue. **

**I believe one person requested this one, and it was something I hadn't really even thought of. So glad they brought it up! Cuz it's made of a humble amount of cute and awesome. Timeline puts it about a month or two after the WaL epilogue. **

**(And don't worry guys! More crazypreggers!Brennan on the way! Poor Booth...)**

* * *

_.Notorious._

It had started out as an affable exchange of christening, but ended in quite the debate. Inevitable of course, how such things tended to unfold while under the control of fickle-minded, and then obstinate when decided, children.

"I think she should be named Buttercup," Emma supplied.

"Buttercup?" Parker repeated dubiously, face twisting up at the name. "For a girl?"

"Yes," Emma confirmed.

"Buttercup is a flavor of something you eat. That'd be a stupid name."

Emma frowned, but Haley tended to agree. "I like Molly, or Jenny."

"Those aren't so bad," Parker allowed, licking his ice-cream cone thoughtfully. "My dad says we should name her Diana. But that's just cos my step mom had a Wonder Woman costume."

"Parents are weird," Emma decided.

Haley remained oblivious, giggling and crawling back and forth on the grass between the two little bundles of fur. A second later, and she was tackled into the ground. Parker and Emma laughed, but didn't stray from their chosen topic for long.

"I really like Bones."

"Auntie Tempe is awesome," Haley crowed in accord, and Emma soon joined in the praise.

"Yeah, but I meant for a name. Think about it. It does apply." Parker began munching thoughtfully on his cone when the vanilla treat was cleaned away.

"But that'd be funny, though," Haley disagreed, face pinching animatedly. "And a little confusing. I really liked Jenny for a name."

"Why don't you combine the two?" a fourth voice suggested helpfully, and the children turned to see a very pregnant Brennan lean forward as best she could in the porch swing. "Various cultures have been known to merge separate translations into single monikers. It would be a suitable compromise, wouldn't it?"

Booth chuckled beside her when she was finished, tucking his arm around her affectionately, and the three kids mulled it over. "Bonny?" Saying it aloud, he only began to laugh harder.

"What? Why is that funny, Booth?" Her brow furrowed prettily in her bewilderment, genuinely confused at his amusement.

"Because ten minutes ago, you just convinced Parker to name his _Clyde..._? After the anthropologist, Clyde Cluckin?"

"Clyde Kluckhohn," she automatically corrected, but was drowned out a second later by Parker's uproarious whoop of a laughter.

"Cool!" he exclaimed. "Bonnie and Clyde!"

The girls unleashed peals of laughter in response, and the two puppies yapped in excitement at the commotion. Both adults watched as the children rose and took off across the yard, the names apparently chosen. They all dashed in great spurts, the two little border collies already earning their infamous namesakes as they herded the children and cornered them against a tree before going after their ankles in delight. Screaming and laughing, Parker and the girls raced for the stream bed where the puppies couldn't catch them.

"Criminals, huh?" Booth surmised a little sulkily when they were out of sight, the far-off squeals still reaching their ears.

"We were two notorious criminals, at one time," Brennan offered as a passing reminder, then leaned her head on his shoulder and patted his chest comfortingly. "Don't be sad now that they didn't name them after cartoon characters or superheroes."

Booth snorted, but neglected to reply.


	3. Home

**Author's Note: A little angst, now.**

****

**"We are Legend" need to be read for this vignette? Indeed, if you would care to know what's going on.**

**Timeline puts it very early on. Shortly after breaking out of the Jeffersonian, and running to Rebecca's house. About three days or so following that. **

* * *

_.Home._

It would work out.

_It would work out_, he thought again, as if to convince himself. He felt the supreme urge to sigh, but quelled it bravely for her benefit. Instead, he ran his hand over the smooth pallid wood, knocking on it once for emphasis. "What do you think?"

"This is the seventh domicile we've considered today," she replied in a dull, halfhearted tone. "I'm sure the others were adequate as well."

She was lost again, he could tell. Gaze set inexpressively against the concrete steps.

He didn't comment on that. "Well, they were. But this one…" Regarding the large, well-structured house again, he lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "The windows and framework are good for barricading. Nice, flat roof. And the inside is nice. Open."

"It's nice," she concurred, but with even less enthusiasm than before.

Booth winced a little, falling back to lean against the door. His palms tapped against the wood in a desultory tempo, however. "A little sterile, though, don't you think?"

"But ideal, I suppose."

He nodded, eyes dropping to his feet. Boots scuffing against the ground. There would be plenty of room for each of them to coexist comfortably. Exceptional space in the pantry and basement for storage. It _was_ ideal.

But clean. Too clean. Too white. But he'd neglected that feature because he thought that maybe it would pacify her. Now though, that didn't seem to be the case. He watched over her carefully, a little sadly, as she stood aimlessly on the porch. Directionless. "We could paint it," he posited tentatively. Sacrificing another shrug.

"Why?"

That seemed to draw her attention though. She'd broken off from her daydream to look at him, her eyes quizzical.

He hunched over further against the door, folding in on himself almost at her incisive demeanor. "I… I don't know. To make it less… cold." He shrugged yet again, hesitant against her abrupt shift of attitude.

Her eyes narrowed and her brow drew together. She shook her head in indifference and glanced away. "Why pretend?"

He waited, but she didn't elaborate. "What?" he asked quietly.

Her eyes flew back to his, bright and disparaging. "Why pretend it is something that it isn't? I don't understand. I don't see the _point_ in glorifying what will essentially be no more than a bomb shelter. A crude asylum." She turned away, crossing her arms over her chest. "We may as well have just stayed at the Jeffersonian."

He flinched a little at her harsh tone, but remained silent against her criticism.

This was how they stayed for some time, at odds with each other. Finally, when he could take no more, he drifted over to her and placed a hand at her back. "Hey."

She sighed, but pivoted to look at him. For awhile, they just stared. Exchanging thoughts and trying to read the other with little success.

"This is important," he said at last. Nodding once for emphasis.

She lowered her gaze, head ducking a little. "How?"

He thought very carefully over what he was about to say, thought very hard about how to say it. "We have to allow ourselves to pull away from reality every now and then. Can't dwell on the truth, do you understand? We'll never make it otherwise."

As his words sunk in, she felt herself doing just the opposite of what he'd said. A stinging burn rose behind her eyes and she expelled a watery sigh, shoulders slumping. "How do we do that?" she begged him in a small voice. "How do _you_? For goodness sake, Parker could be… he could be…" She refused to complete the mortifying thought, feeling for once that their roles had been reversed. "I don't understand how we can possibly do this."

She'd felt him go rigid through their contact, and looked up to see the tears newly formed in his eyes. His brow arched pitifully. "I have to believe that he's not," he said in a tight voice. "I have to believe that somehow, those who didn't turn into those things got away. I have to believe that my son is out there, _somewhere_, and that he's safe. And wherever he is, he knows that I'm going to find him again one day." His brown eyes searched her face, cementing his words.

A single rebellious tear slipped down her face, and she nodded once. "I understand." He stifled the urge to brush it away. But stilled in surprise when her hand reached up to smooth away his. "You're saying that we have to smile sometimes. Or we'll go insane."

He found himself leaning into her touch, and tamped down the sense of loss when she drew it back finally. "We have to smile," he repeated in earnest. "This isn't just going to be some sort of nightly sanctuary, Bones. It's going to be a home. Our home."

She met his swimming gaze and each look of meaning he offered before she released an unsteady breath, glancing down. "I don't think I can smile today, but I promise to try in the future."

As if to disprove her observation, a tiny bend lifted his lips in response. "That's good," he said in encouragement. That bend stretched just a little more. "Now give me a hug. We're going to do something fun today."

Her lips quirked, just a little, and he rejoiced. "Fun?" Despite her dubious expression, his face warmed when she slipped her arms around his waist and pulled him in close.

"Fun," he repeated, drawing her into a more suitable embrace. "We can go to the park. The Memorial, maybe? And I saw a brand new Mustang GT over by the third house."

She chuckled at the underlying excitement in his tone, but nodded. She squeezed her eyes shut, inhaling deeply. "Fun." Suspicious of the word, but trusting him.

"There's gotta be some around here somewhere."

Trying to disguise it, she bent her head and pressed a kiss into his chest, lips barely puckering. She was relieved that he didn't appear to notice. "The house is nice," she said again, more firmly this time. Meaning it.

Smiling a little at her approval, he tucked his chin over the crown of her head. Eyes sliding closed. Trying to ignore the way his chest still thrummed at the reminder of her lips against it. "It is."

"Are you certain you didn't choose it because of the rather large television inside?"

He started at her unexpected comment, then broke into quiet laughter. Delighting when he heard and felt her joining in. "You noticed that?"

"I noticed you noticing it," she teased lightly, patting his back with affection.

"I'm a weak, weak man," he chuckled. Then grew a little more serious. "But hey… that basement? You could set up your own little lab in there, huh?"

She smiled slowly at the thought, squishing herself unconsciously closer to him. "That would be nice," she murmured, eyes closing against the bright sun and comforting feel of him against her.

_It will work_, she decided.


	4. Judge of Character

**Author's Note: I had all these plans for epic!angst, but then this little funny bunny embedded in my ear and kept on truckin' into the harddrive...**

****

**"We are Legend" need to be read for this vignette? Yep.**

Timeline puts it early on again. During WaL. When they're still working out all the bugs and such in setting up their routine.

* * *

_.Judge of Character._

She stood there.

Blinked once. Twice.

Opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it again when nothing followed. She tilted her head just a little, slowly bringing her arms up to place her hands on her hips. Sharp, blue eyes narrowed.

There was something decidedly unsettling about it. The smooth, glossy canvas of its membrane. Elevated stature and stagnant posture. Scrutinizing further, she found herself uncharacteristically shying back from the ominous form. Its countenance utterly devoid of expression.

Not only was it unsettling. It was… creepy.

And sinister, in a way. The intensely vibrant orange of its ill-bestowed garment reminded her of a predator or hazardous organism that used aposematic patterns or garish colors to warn away the unwary. Another incentive to which she couldn't understand her companion's dangerous proximity to the… _thing_.

Finally, she set her jaw and demanded an explanation. As was her life motto.

"What the _hell_ is that?"

Booth flipped the hood up on the sweatshirt over the thing's head, shrouding the intimidating face in shadow. "Fred!" he exclaimed with a little too much enthusiasm, as if that was explanation enough.

Her frown deepened. This thing was going to cause her grief. She could tell that already.


	5. Damn Hormones, PT 1

**Author's Note: Again, skipping out on the angst for now, because really... who doesn't love crazy-hormone-preggers Brennan? (as most people have been requesting more of, lol) I couldn't decided which version to post (because I have two separate base muses running for this) but then I decided - hey, just post 'em both! The two don't really have any direct connection to the other, except the vast amounts of hormones running through Brennan's adorably pregnant body.**

**"We are Legend" need to be read for this vignette? Not really, nope.**

**Timeline puts it after the WaL epilogue. Other than that - any time during her pregnancy. **

* * *

_.Damn Hormones.  
(part one)_

"Explain your expression, please."

"Huh? Oh." He gives his head a slight shake. "I just… I fail to see what the problem is, I guess."

"The problem? The problem is that you're so nice to me all the time!"

His jaw sets slightly askew out of puzzlement, and a brief moment of silence settles before he responds. "Well... I'm the Dad, Bones. The husband," he gently explains. "It's my job to take care of you, and I _want_ to. You're not a burden, not by any means."

"But… holding my hair back while I'm regurgitating items I don't even recall ingesting? Giving up the bathroom when I have to urinate every twenty minutes? I've become just this disgusting mass of a woman whose primary function has become to expel odorous and often unidentifiable bodily fluids!"

A pause.

"Well, you're certainly making sex tonight sound more and more appealing," he offers in deadpan, but the lopsided grin betrays his true amusement. Teasing her is a dangerous risk, but her mercurial moods are a fascinating thing to observe. And test.

"Who says you're getting sex tonight?" she diverts from the original topic, genuinely confused. Has Angela been nosing around yet again?

He laughs. "_You_ do, Hormone Lady." His amusement is making her pout, but he only finds this more endearing. He leans back against the counter, spreading his hands for emphasis. "Your libido's been raging like a Mexican wrestler for the last two weeks. I barely made it in the door yesterday before you attacked me!"

She has the decency to look embarrassed. Ducks her head a little. "I… _suppose_... I could have been a little more discreet. Or restrained."

"Or at least waited for me to get my shoes off," he chuckles.

She sighs, hands planting themselves on her widening hips. Posture hesitant. She is the most adorable pregnant woman he's ever laid eyes on. He frowns though when a crease appears at her brow and she starts to worry her bottom lip between her teeth. She appears to fall deeply into thought, and for a moment, he fears he's read her wrong.

"Sweetheart, you know if you're too tired or aren't feeling well that I'm not, you know, going to try and persuade you into anything—"

"Oh, there will be sex tonight." Her voice is high and she sounds hugely surprised by his assumption. She tilts her head then in contemplation before shaking it. "I'm just debating whether I want you to make me a sandwich or pick me up some ice-cream and ribs from the market."

Brennan hates hormones.


	6. Damn Hormones, PT 2

**Author's Note: Here's part two! Slightly more angsty, but in a cute kind of way, I think. **

**"We are Legend" need to be read for this vignette? Not really, nope.**

**Timeline puts it after the WaL epilogue. Other than that - any time during her pregnancy. **

* * *

_.Damn Hormones.  
(part two)_

"I don't know how that's gonna happen, Bones, when I'm getting swamped with all this other stuff! Jared's crew has been running the rounds like dogs for the past six days, and Max has been riding my ass for the past two to get that trap done—God, like no one else in this colony knows how to draw up a damn blueprint!"

"You're the best, Booth—I don't see what the problem is! You started it last week, how hard is it to finish?"

The whole day has been tumbling slowly downhill, starting with little arguments here and there and eventually escalating into an all-out cage match by evening. Even Angela hadn't dared near them.

The Bug Man's ancestors had been cursed three times over, Zack had been scorned, Cam became so mad at their antics she'd kicked them out of the little constructed lab altogether—which only pissed off the pregnant anthropologist further, and poor Sweets had been shunned the entire day. To say nothing of the episode with Max and the snicker-doodles. Booth had stubbed his toe on the coffee table and swore like a sailor. Brennan had broken a glass and cussed enough to make even him blush cherry red.

It was one of those days.

"Seriously? Are you serious?"

"Why shouldn't I be? You're the man with the all answers, right?"

"Oh my God, did you just use sarcasm?"

"Maybe I did! I never thought you'd be the one to bleat and whine, either!"

"Jeez, Brennan, you know what? I'm sorry," he begins exasperatedly, turning away to resume drying off the dishes. "Not everyone processes things as fast as you. Down here in mud, I'm getting stretched a little thin. Pretty much just your average slow-on-the-uptake homo sapien here."

When met with nothing but silence, he's ready to internally rejoice at his domination of the argument. Finally, at last.

But then he hears the sob.

Instantly, he's on the alert and whirling to her in alarm. She's still in the center of the room, looking so small despite the large swell of her stomach, hand pressed over her face. Dressed in a lavender button-up and loose capris. Swollen ankles and feet bare against the carpet, so vulnerable, and God he is such an _ass_!

"Jesus, Bones! I'm so sorry!" She releases another keening sob when he races over to her and immediately envelops her into his arms. "Shh, shh, shh! I'm an idiot, Bones! Don't even listen to me! I'm just a stupid lunkhead who doesn't know anything! Please, don't cry! I'm so sorry!"

"Don't," she sniffles feebly into his shoulder, giving a sharp intake while shaking her head. "Don't say that! You're _not_ stupid!"

"What?" Okay, now he's getting whiplash. His brow draws together, but he doesn't stop smoothing his hand over her hair. "Bones, I don't…"

"God, it's these stupid hormones! I'm sorry. These austere influxes of estrogen and progesterone are exposing me to severe emotional fluctuations. It's traumatic! I can't even control myself anymore!"

This, of course, only makes her cry harder.

She feels him tuck her tighter against his chest, and sniffs loudly in response to his gentle coddling. "I'm really sorry," she sighs, going on in a blubbery mess. "It's just so overwhelming and I _hate_ not being able to predict my own body and what I might say or how I might act around you. And God, I'm so enormous, and—"

"Hey, hey," he interrupts gently, pulling away to look at her. At his loving expression, she feels fresh tears choke the back of her throat again. "_You_… are beautiful," he tells her, dropping a kiss to her quivering lips. "And brilliant." Another kiss. "And I love you." Then the eyes again, gazing and adoring. "There's nothing wrong with you. You're perfect."

She scoffs weakly, tears still clinging to her lashes. Swelling further when he brushes his nose against hers with that cute, irresistible smile and eager puppy expression. "That's ridiculous," she defies quietly, trying to refuse the quirking at her lips. "_You're_ ridiculous."

"Nuh-uh." That smile widens in intensity and he starts to shuffle even closer against her, if that's possible. "So, so pretty. A beautiful Mama Bones. And you're going to have a beautiful Baby Bones, and she's going to be just as perfect."

He's been calling her Mama Bones all the time now. She doesn't comment. Because she'd be lying if she said she didn't enjoy it, and she isn't a liar.

Still skeptical, a watery smile nevertheless tips her lips, just a little. "Yeah?" she whispers.

The dimples arrive. "Definitely. She's going to look just like you, and be able to wield her charm just like me."

She giggles, and what a horrid, girly sound it is. But she really doesn't care anymore. "Kiss me again. Please? I liked that."

He chuckles, a low sound in his throat that makes her pulse thrum louder. "Gosh, you know…? Your punishments are really brutal," he mumbles good-naturedly against her mouth.

Her arms gradually weave around his waist, fingers splaying against his back and curling into the crisp material of his shirt. "We were rather cruel to everyone today," she reminds when a small interval for air eventually arrives. A second later, lips are sealed again.

"Mmm," he agrees, loving the bump of her swollen stomach against him. Her hands, in their embrace, had slipped into the pockets of his jeans. "We should probably… umm… probably call them… apologize…"

He becomes a little distracted when her adroit fingers slowly start popping loose the buttons on his shirt. "We'll see them later," she dismisses, warm hands sliding over his skin.

Okay. Seeley Booth _does not_ giggle.

Except for that one time… three seconds ago… when he just did.

"I have another request for you," Brennan whispers conspiratorially into his ear, guffawing when his mischievous response tickles the sensitive skin of her neck. A moment later, he's scooping her up into his arms and stumbling toward their bedroom. He stubs his toe again on the coffee table, but this time he laughs. She hoots with amusement when he almost smacks her into the doorframe in his haste, but he'd made a quick save.

_So… make-up time it is. _

Booth loves hormones.


	7. You Won't Find it Here

**Author's Note: Bring on the angst. Sorry for the sad lack of these little darlings. I've been a busy little bee. **

**"We are Legend" need to be read for this vignette? Indeedly.**

**Timeline puts it after the WaL epilogue. Other than that - later on during her pregnancy. **

* * *

_.You Won't Find it Here._

She hasn't realized just how worried she was for him until he comes home three days later. She hates not being able to go with him now, but surrenders to the need to care for this little one growing inside her. This is the longest they've ever been apart in almost two years. It throws her, and the whole time during his absence, she's been directionless.

He and Jared's crews had divided, spreading out farther than usual. He hates leaving her, too. His men tease him about the forlorn, mopey expression that often claims his face sometimes, but not really. They know he's miserable to be apart from her. The jokes never last long.

When she hears the door open now, an intense lifting shoots up in her chest, and she's grinning from ear to ear. As quickly as she can, she lifts herself from the couch and breaks for the back entry.

He's been gone for three days, the dark, roughened shadow on his jaw testament enough to that. But the shadows beneath his eyes and the haunted look in them tell her everything. Even what she'd hoped never to have to face. At least not so soon after their time in hell.

Her smile falls away, dying with the moment. Nothing ever really is a fairy tale. Especially here, in this time. This world.

Wordlessly, she steps up to him and envelops him tightly in her arms. His forehead drops into the crook of her neck and shoulder, and he sighs heavily. She feels his arms slip around her until he's returning the embrace as best as his exhausted body and soul will allow. After a moment, she feels his lips pucker gently against her skin, and a single tear slips from her eye.

She's glad he's safe.

She'll find out later that one of the hosts had fought loose during capture. A younger forager with Booth's team hadn't been paying attention. There just wasn't enough men to handle so many of the Infected. They all had been unprepared. Tranquilizers were running low, and the ones that did penetrate flesh weren't working fast enough against the rabid threat.

Booth had slammed into the screaming, frenzied mass before it could seriously harm his younger team member. In the end, he'd had to kill it. No one congratulated him on the take down he'd been forced to carry out with his bare hands.

He hasn't had to kill anyone in so long…

Brennan identified the host later as a fifteen year old male. Later on, she's filling out the forms and reports on their little sofa. Her hand that never shakes trembles now a little, and the ink flies over the paper in wobbly penmanship.

He's asleep on her lap, his fingers still curled a little around the folds of her shirt over her protruding belly. He'd been singing quietly to it before he'd drifted off, tracing gentle patterns over her skin. There's a frown that makes the dark wings of his brow inch together. Quietly, she smoothes her fingers over it before running them through his hair. After coming home, after the brief kiss to her shoulder, he'd pulled back to kiss her more fully, then lowered himself to his knees and hugged her even tighter than before. Face pressed desperately against her stomach.

Tomorrow, she'll invite Angela over as he spends the day away with Parker.


	8. Strange

**Author's Note: Not really sure how to categorize this one. Not angst or drama really, by far. But not humor either. Hmm. You decide. **

**"We are Legend" need to be read for this vignette? Sure, sure.**

**Timeline puts it when they're just starting out in their chosen residence. During WaL. **

* * *

_.Strange._

It's strange, he finds. Living in the same house as her. Living_ with_ her. He's still not used to it, but then, it's only been five days.

He'd finally gotten the generators up and working last night, and the payoff seems to come in the form of cleanliness as the sound of running water still reaches his ears from upstairs. She's showering, he assumes. His stomach growls loudly as he stands a little aimlessly in the kitchen, so he trudges barefoot over to the refrigerator in jeans and a t-shirt. He'd like one, too, but he wouldn't fault her for using up all the hot water. Maybe she can just give him a little massage instead. That is, if he can work up the courage to ask her.

They haven't really had time to hunt down any food, so any sustenance is pretty basic. He shoves a box of cereal under his arm from the counter and snatches an apple from the fridge, taking a large bite.

When he brushes trace evidence of juice from his chin, the back of his hand feels a little chaffed under the abuse the slight beard he's neglected to take care of provides. He frowns, but hears the water shut off upstairs. No sense in channeling Grizzly Adams if he doesn't have to. Discarding the cereal and half-eaten apple, he makes for the back hall and bounds up the stairs.

He knocks a little tentatively on the clean white door, little swirls of steam escaping under its frame. "Bones…?" he tries. "You decent?"

"Um… just a moment." He hears a few cabinets open and close, one drawer shut. "Yes."

Turning the knob, he draws open the door and steps into the wall of steam. When it clears, he stutters briefly at the sight—both physically and verbally. He really should have been more specific.

Almost all that he can see is damp, pale skin and tangled auburn hair slicked against her bare shoulders. The white towel does very little to hide much of anything.

He blinks and clears his throat, respectfully trying to avert his eyes. "Ah… sorry, I…"

She waits for him to respond, but immediately takes in the slight rigidness of his posture and reddening of his face. Her throat catches in realization, and she ducks her head. Suddenly acutely aware of the situation. "Oh. You meant… dressed."

Her blue eyes find him again, large and apologetic. He offers her a brief upturn of his lips in reassurance, but can't seem to hold it in place. His eyes stray, and he forces them away yet again. "Yeah, but… it's…" He's stammering again. Clearing his throat for a second time—and it doesn't help—he takes a cautious step forward. "It's fine. Um…" Carefully, he reaches around her to snatch up his razor and draws back quickly. Trying to ignore the way the back of his arm had grazed her shoulder. "Thanks."

She bows her head, crossing her arms over her chest and pulling the towel a little tighter. "You're welcome," she replies quietly, coloring slightly. She doesn't watch him leave.

It's strange, even awkward at times. But not entirely unpleasant.


End file.
